Weekend Argus (Saturday Edition)
Boucher – on the outside edge
THERE was a picture that did the rounds in the days after South Africa won the first Test at Lord’s last month, showing a chunk of the Proteas squad on the balcony of the away dressing room, with the South African flag hanging over the front.
All of those in the picture are players. Some with beers, some punching the air and all with smiles, with the skipper Dean Elgar at the front. You don’t see the coaching staff. In fact, in the Mark Boucher era, you barely saw the coaching staff. In an official team picture taken after the Lord’s Test, most of the coaching staff are on the periphery.
Boucher, however, is right there in front, in the middle wearing a sheepish smile that suggests he’d much rather be on the periphery.
Boucher’s players spoke well of him, as did other members of the Proteas management staff. And yet the kind of public affection afforded to Rassie Erasmus and Pitso Mosimane, was just never something Boucher attained. He never sought the spotlight as coach, never courted controversy nor offered views on philosophy or opinions on umpiring decisions.
He certainly never danced around to the Nightcrawler’s dance classic Push the feeling on before posting it to social media. In fact, besides calls to support conservation initiatives and the odd mention about golf, Boucher’s social media is devoid of cricket talk since his appointment as Proteas coach in 2019.
While on the surface that decision, by Cricket SA’s then Director of Cricket, Graeme Smith – which was ratified by CSA’s then Board of Directors – seemed an obvious one given where the national team was at the time and Boucher’s own success with the Titans, it was still controversial.
South African cricket was in upheaval and Boucher being made head coach was perceived as an old boys’ network seeking to take over the sport.
Boucher wasn’t able to bring on board his own consultants. Results on the field weren’t great – a Test series loss to England, T20 series defeats by the same team and then Pakistan, who also won a Test series against the Proteas.
Criticism that Boucher faced for on-field results was over the top, given what he’d inherited and the limited time at his disposal. However, the excrement really hit the fan during the Social Justice and Nation-building hearings, when former teammate Paul Adams testified that Boucher was one of a group of players in the South African team in the late 1990s that referred to him as ‘brown shit’, as part of a team song.
That storm unfolded amidst the resignation of Enoch Nkwe as Boucher’s assistant coach, with Nkwe citing a poor team culture, which was followed a few months later by Quinton de Kock refusing to take the knee as recognition of the Black Lives Matter movement.
Both of those incidents were stitched together with the Adams testimony by Cricket SA’s Board to charge Boucher with bringing the organisation into disrepute. Cricket
SA sought to have him fired.
It was the kind of public spotlight that Boucher, an intensely private individual, would have found extremely hurtful.
Understandably, all talk of the disciplinary hearing was ignored in public, and when CSA didn’t go ahead with the hearing, there was a terse statement from Boucher that he was happy to move on.
It is worth noting, as Adams had testified, and indeed in the clarification he provided about his SJN testimony later, that it wasn’t only Boucher who sang that song, but it was only Boucher who gave a public apology.
Moreover, those other teammates of Boucher and Adams have steered clear of any publicity – let alone making an apology – while Boucher remained in the public eye as Proteas head coach… until last week that is.
His personal touch and behindthe-scenes work only occasionally made it into the public realm.
Lungi Ngidi, who was at the forefront of calls for the Proteas to show recognition of the Black Lives Matter movement, praised Boucher, calling him a mentor in an interview with TimesLive’s Mahlatse Mphahlele last year.
“He actually helped me to transform into a Protea. From the day he came to the Titans to start coaching, he became like a mentor to me, and not just in cricket, but with financial stuff. Off the field, I could go to him for advice,” Ngidi said.
“In lockdown, when we had time to go out, I picked up trail running, which is something he does; he suggested it. I lost so much weight, it helped me so much more with my cricket. I’ve always had a good relationship with him, and I will always appreciate everything he has done for me.”
When she left the position of Proteas media manager, Sipokazi Sokanyile wrote on social media: “Bouchy, they will never even know half of it, and they don’t need to. I’m proud to know you. You have my loyalty, love and support always.”
Boucher had made a touching speech in the change-room for Sokanyile after her final match with the team.
That is perhaps Boucher’s biggest problem. His sins were very publicly exposed, but the work he did away from the cameras, only fleetingly sprung into the public consciousness. He didn’t have ‘publicists,’ in the way Erasmus had with the Springboks, or Mosimane did at Sundowns, and later Al-Ahly. Nor did Boucher try to foster any endearment through social media, like those two high-profile coaches.
His will forever be a contentious chapter in South African cricket. Was he respected by the public? Sure. Appreciated? Perhaps, in time. Loved? That is a lot harder to answer.